Crimes of Existence
by eidolondestroyer
Summary: SPOILER Sometimes people are guilty for simply living. They are the different, and their abnormal existence is a crime. And crimes must be punished.
1. Forced Penance

Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia. But hey, if one day I buy out Namco, I can proudly remove this disclaimer. Keyword: if.

A tall figure slumped against a wall, sighing in both frustration and relief. The wall pushed his auburn hair back to either side as his head lolled back against the stone surface. Exhaling again, each muscle flexed before finally relaxing, and his knees bent to give way to his collapsing legs as his back slid down the wall, coming to an unceremonious stop as the lower area of his back slammed into his foot. A third exhalation later, he had assumed a more comfortable position, halfway closing his eyes as he once more pondered the state of the world. Brown eyes glazed over and became empty, and he withdrew into himself.

His thoughts were nothing new. It was the same old story, debating within himself how he could justify his actions. Yet he did it every day. Each and every day he wound up torn over his actions. Everything just felt wrong, and his rationale blatantly told him what he did was wrong, but he somehow alleviated his conscience each and every day. Sometimes he didn't even bother keeping his thoughts to himself, announcing all his thoughts to the lifeless world. He looked slightly to the side to see the empty mass that was once life, following the same exact, horribly predictable path, repeating the same exact phrase over and over again. It lacked the soul to hear, let alone process, his words.

Listening to the lowest and most soulless angels of Welgaia was one of the many things that caused his conscience to plague him. Nothing was different in between saying phrases. There wasn't even the slightest change in annunciation or spacing between words. Every time, it was the exact same thing. Most of these lower forms of angels were basically programmed to spout some sort of patriotic one-liner hailing the leader of Cruxis. Not that those angels capable of basic thought ever did anything else. They too would never say or so much as think anything contradictory to the will of Lord Yggdrasill.

He sighed yet again, closing his eyes briefly, wishing for that all-too short moment that the darkness would just swallow him and take him away from this world. When he opened his eyes, he saw in front of him an abomination of a child. Golden hair streamed down around his shoulders, slightly concealing one of his shining blue eyes. A white shirt covered the child's torso with green trim at the edges and a half-cape of sorts acting as what were more or less sleeves, and at each wrist there were purple bracelets. His pants were blue and excessively tight, with white socks going halfway up his shin before the odd décor ended in green shoes. The elven half of this "child's" blood was quite clear by his graceful appearance. Yet his looks were a thin mask for the hatred and contempt he held for the two species whose blood coursed through his body.

"Mithos…" the taller figure began in his deep voice before trailing off. He always felt extremely uncomfortable around Mithos while he was still in his true form, from 4,000 years ago when he first harnessed the power of a Cruxis crystal to stop his aging. It was much easier to believe that Mithos was indeed capable of his actions when he used the special Exsphere's power to appear grown up. Talking to a child, however, about the actions of Cruxis was rather overwhelming.

"I'm sorry Kratos, I forgot how uneasy I make you feel." Kratos was always taken aback by how a child's voice could contain so much hatred. As of late there had been a growing rift between Kratos and his former apprentice, and Mithos was surely trying to use guilt to bring Kratos fully back into the fold. "I had thought you were above the discrimination your species has for half-elves."

"You know that's not true Mithos!" Kratos protested, but that alone wouldn't satisfy the leader of Cruxis. Mithos had been so twisted by grief and rage that only saying what he wanted to hear would appease him. "I am no longer of the inferior race, Lord Yggdrasill." The words were only half-hearted, yet the very fact that Kratos said them was enough for Mithos. The important thing was that Kratos orally denounced his race and referred to Mithos as his leader. The child promptly grew to Kratos's height, this time with a much more apathetic demeanor.

"It's good that you know where your loyalties lie." Kratos was irked by the fact that Mithos had used his Cruxis crystal to maintain his childish voice, making him seem that much more twisted and wrong. "We needn't have _another_ incident, do we?" Kratos winced, knowing Mithos was referring to his time on Sylvarant with Anna. It had been almost a year since Kratos was forced to strike her down and lost everything, yet Mithos constantly reminded and punished him for his temporary betrayal.

"No…" Kratos stated resignedly when he realized that while the question didn't need answering, Mithos still expected one. Kratos had basically given up on him, and decided to just indulge him so that he could get on with the creation of his Age of Lifeless Beings. "That's good to hear." Yggdrasill stated plainly after allowing Kratos to mull over his response, this time in an adult's voice. "You shouldn't get involved with those filthy creatures anyway. They'll only hate you for what you are. And what are you Kratos?" Kratos frowned as he realized Yggdrasill was once again leading him through a series of admissions to prove his loyalty.

"I am one of the Four Seraphim of Cruxis. I am superior to all other beings, who will hate me for my part in the bringing of a perfect age." Kratos simply let the words flow emotionlessly, knowing that if he didn't say them Yggdrasill would probably find a punishment, such as razing a village, or checking on the status of a ranch, usually Kvar's. He knew Kratos wouldn't ever think of actually taking up his sword against him.

"And why would they hate you for desiring my utopia?"

"They selfishly reject salvation." Kratos breathed deeply before struggling to finish his automatic response. "They are far too inferior to accept that they must be sacrificed." Had he been feeling particularly angry or guilty, he would have instead told Mithos that they actually valued life as he occasionally did. The last time he had done so resulted in him tracking down and killing half of a pilgrimage to Asgard filled with children on the grounds that they were attempting to sabotage the Asgard human ranch. The other half was to be turned over to Kvar for Exsphere research. From what Kratos knew, none had proven compatible with the Angelus project. Not that details like that prevented Kvar from slapping what would become Exspheres on them anyway and working them until they could be harvested.

Yggdrasill smirked, extremely pleased with his miniature interrogation of Kratos. "Good." He stated in a far too sadistic tone. "Then I take it you won't mind making one of the inferior beings suffer?" Kratos forced himself to nod half-heartedly. "Even better." Yggdrasill remarked. "Kratos, go to Tethe'alla. The current Chosen there…" Yggdrasill paused to leave Kratos guessing for a bit and then continued.

"Make him wish he had never been born."

"What?" Kratos stammered, genuinely shocked. It was not that this request was particularly cruel, but instead that Yggdrasill normally preserved the Chosens in the hopes of finding a match for Martel, especially after Tabatha's failure to receive Martel's soul.

"It's really quite simple. Make him wish he had never been born. This Chosen is… unworthy of Martel as he is. He's as blinded by his discrimination towards half-elves as anyone else. I could never allow someone like that to act as a vessel for my sister." Mithos's voice instead of Yggdrasill's stated the last several words, but Kratos believed this to be an involuntary lapse of control. Mithos was never rationale about his sister. "So break him down." Yggdrasill continued after regaining control. "Make him feel the pain of the half-elves he despises. I… _we_ are forced to wish we had never been born. Everywhere, we are met with the same discrimination." Mithos reverted to true form as his emotion burst forth, but this time he didn't bother to regain control. "We shouldn't have been born. We're… different. Our very existence is a crime. But he's different too. So make him feel the pain! Make him… make him suffer!" He started laughing in a way that induced shivers from Kratos, and he continued for several seconds in his mania before he began to calm down. "They should all suffer. _Their_ existence is the crime, and crimes must be punished. But death is too good for them. They aren't worthy of anything Martel ever had! So they must wish they had never been born."

Kratos stared at Mithos for several seconds, each stretching on for an eternity in the tension, then sighed deeply before speaking up. "And how should I make the Chosen wish he was never born?" Kratos asked, knowing that he would carry out Mithos's assignment. Mithos adopted his grown-up form and then answered.

"I don't care in particular how you do it, just make sure that it gets done." Kratos made a slight bow and began to walk away, allowing his wings to show. "Oh, and Kratos…" Yggdrasill called out to the swordsman. Kratos stopped yet did not turn around.

"When the time comes for the Chosen's revelation, do make sure to let me know, so that I might see the pain of existence in his eyes." Kratos nodded in affirmation then continued walking.

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It had been one week since his assignment had been given to him. Kratos had spent the time gathering facts and pulling strings. In some cases people simply volunteered the information thinking Kratos a wayward scholar. In others, Kratos had to make dramatic appearances as an angel of Cruxis. Eventually one interesting tidbit came his way. Apparently the angels had sent down two oracles for arranged marriages. Such polygamy was not condoned within Cruxis, it was likely just a mistake resulting from even matches in attempts to reproduce Martel's mana signature. The angels were likely too thoughtless to choose one over the other, so just went with both. It was an embarrassment to Cruxis, yet having two potential Chosens worked for Kratos in this case.

Kratos walked freely throughout the manor of the Chosen's lineage. There were currently four people residing within it. The father of the two children was dead. Thus there were two mothers, one Chosen, named Zelos, and one child who would become Chosen in the event of the death of her big brother, his little sister who had been called Seles. Everything was perfect. The mother of the current Chosen resented her child as a symbol of her ruined life, and the mother of Seles undoubtedly wanted her child to become Chosen to gain power. And there was only one way for Seles to become Chosen.

Kratos waited patiently in the room of Seles's mother, lightly tapping his foot on the floor to bide the time. Finally he heard someone approach the room and adopted his position, standing with authority in front of the window, making his angel wings show and the area around him glow intensely. Humans were so easily fooled by this trick.

The door opened and a pink-haired woman wearing a white dress walked in. As soon as she saw Kratos she nearly fainted, taking a step back upon seeing the angel in front of her. She was not as shocked as most people would be to see a member of Cruxis, for she had received an oracle after all, yet Kratos had a much higher form of Exsphere than whichever angel sent the oracle, so he appeared by far more stunning, and more important.

"Do not be afraid." Kratos began in his most soothing voice. "I am an emissary of the Goddess Martel." Kratos wanted to laugh at this woman, knowing she believed in the Goddess. All she believed in was the long-dead sister of Mithos, a soul placed within the Great Seed as means of preservation. Utterly pathetic.

"Wh-what does the Goddess desire of me?" The woman stated in fear, and beneath that Kratos detected a false humility. She was yet another arrogant human. Kratos began to wonder if Anna was unique among the ranks of humanity as far as disposition went.

"We of Cruxis do not confer our blessing upon the current Chosen." Kratos lied, and the woman before him went wide-eyed not in surprise, but in the realization of an opportunity. "Seles, however…" Kratos was careful to name only Seles, to make her seem more important. The girl's mother swelled with pride, something of which she had too much in the first place. "Cruxis desires that Seles become the Chosen." Kratos finished.

"And what must I do?" The woman began, only wanting a confirmation of what she already knew.

"Undo the mistake of his birth."

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Yggdrasill and Kratos stood in the snow, not feeling the biting cold in the slightest. They watched the Chosen play in the garden, building a snowman. His mother was also there, feigning interest in the child's activities. The snow became like a curtain, the two could not see the assassin waiting in the snow. That was the appropriateness of the arrangement. The snow was the perfect backdrop. It was so beautiful, yet so deadly. The orchestration Kratos had created was equally beautiful in design, but it would prove fatal.

Kratos and Yggdrasill used their heightened senses to peer through the snow, simply sensing the location of mana when their eyes when their eyes were not enough. Yggdrasill grinned in the anticipation of what was coming, and he knew Kratos would not fail. Kratos himself had a sick sense of pleasure from the events that would soon unfold. Based on the pendulum swing of his emotions he might have been wracked with guilt. Yet now he felt anger towards the humans. They were just as responsible as anyone else. Four thousand years ago they made Mithos become Lord Yggdrasill, and just a year ago they were too afraid to stand up to Desians and helped Kvar track down Kratos and his family. Besides, they were better off dying now instead of becoming lifeless beings.

"Just what have you planned Kratos?" Yggdrasill asked wryly, half-knowing what was coming but lacking knowledge of the specifics. Everything was in the details.

"Wait and see." Kratos said through gritted teeth. Yggdrasill didn't take notice of any disrespect though, watching in fascination as Seles's mother began to use a spell.

"I wouldn't think humans capable of magic…" Yggdrasill began to wrap his mind around how a mere human could master the elven art. Kratos had given her an Exsphere, which was used to awaken the dormant and miniscule amount of elven blood within her. Just about all humans had some elven blood within them, and the proper Exsphere could help amplify that blood. The Exsphere Kratos had donated was in between a basic one used for combat and a Cruxis crystal. It would do the job nicely.

"Kratos," Yggdrasill began uneasily, "if that woman should hit the Chosen-"

"She won't." Kratos stated flatly. "She lacks experience with magic, and in the limited visibility, she'll miss." Yggdrasill gave him a questioning look, and then continued to watch. The Chosen pranced around in the snow excitedly, filled with the vigor of innocence. The snow was not an inconvenience making it impossible to go to work or a force which could slowly drain the life of someone. It was simply a plaything. Kratos wondered for a second how different things might have been. Maybe had they all lived, maybe Kratos might be seeing an infant Lloyd engaging in the harmless play. The bittersweet thought inevitably only made Kratos begin to resent humans even more, to resent all life itself. All life was far too flawed; perhaps it was best to just wipe the slate clean.

The spell grew in power until it was guaranteed fatal, and then it was unleashed upon the unsuspecting pair. Neither Kratos or Yggdrasill could see what spell was used, but the end result was quite clear as the snowman collapsed, and the pristine snow was dyed red.

The Chosen looked on, too shocked to do anything. His mother fell to her knees, grabbing his shoulder to keep herself up and releasing all the bitterness and fury she had been forced to bottle up over the years. "You should never have been born." She spat the words with absolute and terrifying conviction, not just believing but knowing in her mind it was true. Her life had been ruined and now ended because of the child before her, a tainted abnormality that defied the rules of life.

And then she collapsed into the pure snow, tainting it with blood. And as the pure snow was stained, Kratos began to see the innocence within the Chosen wane.

All the while Seles's mother had been taking small steps forward to confirm the kill, not having heard anything proving it but knowing that someone died. As she realized Zelos was still alive she began to prepare another spell but two guards found the would-be assassin and fell upon her, thrusting the ends of two spears at her throat. The woman cancelled the spell, and was walked back, far out of sight or earshot of the Chosen.

As Yggdrasill heard the faint movement of metal across skin accompany the uncontrollable sobs of a child orphaned and rejected by his own mother, a smile grew upon his face.


	2. Glorious Era

The fiery blade wrenched its way through the silvery metal, producing ungodly sounds as the alloys protested in vain against the blade's fatal edge. The sword burrowed deeper in deeper until finally emerging, having fully penetrated the mass of circuitry. The tip of the blade peeked out of the other end before retreating out. When the sword returned to its master's side, the former robot collapsed, having met its purpose of virtual death. Now it was simply scrap metal that could be salvageable for any number of purposes. Other weaponry, basic armor, smaller machines, there was no end to the possibilities.

There was more robotic slaughter to be done, however. Four more still remained, having apathetically watched their comrade be destroyed. Their programs realized that the challenger in the center of the arena needed an opponent, and all four rushed in, failing to confer and decide which should go first. Their challenger didn't particularly mind though. It was only a matter of seconds before each was lying in slightly less clean kills than the first, slashed into strips of the alloy created for magitechnology.

As he sheathed the Flamberge, Kratos could not truly let himself enjoy the victory. It had been so long since any of his robotic challengers had proved any threat. Even at their most lethal programs they couldn't last more than ten seconds. Kratos didn't really use this for practice though. His practice regimen required much more creative, organic opponents. The robots were instead a stress relief of sorts. It somehow felt satisfying to break Cruxis's toys.

Yet Kratos had not procured the relief he had sought in his sparring. His violent outburst had not distracted him from the recent events. Yggdrasill was still grinning from the spectacle the Chosen of Tethe'alla had been so unfortunate to create. Once more perspective replaced passion, and an act of petty revenge against humans was no longer a symbolic act. Kratos realized that he had basically descended into a temper tantrum, not able to accept what had happened.

As he continued to rationalize his actions Kratos cradled his head in his hands before sighing in exasperation. He had become so emotional as of late, so prone to an instability that frightened him. He had been the calm and collected warrior who never lost his cool and always used his common sense. Emotions and personal feelings had always been secondary to what mattered. Maybe there had been something wrong with that too, but his current state of being bordered on mental illness. It all stemmed back to Anna, much like almost everything else nowadays. Like it or not, Kratos was still buried deep in his past.

"Lord Kratos…" the prim voice made the inquiry without showing any emotion, "would you like for us to…"

"No. I'm done for today." Kratos dismissed the angel without any hesitation. He already knew what it was going to ask, it was programmed singularly for the task of supplying high-ranking members of Cruxis with things to train against.

The angel turned away from Kratos and began to float off towards its next destination. It was disturbing, how mechanical and precise the angel's actions were. There wasn't even thought behind them. The angel probably didn't know why it was even doing what is was doing; it simply understood the how. The angel never even bothered to question its actions. It simply did them because it was told to. This was the glorious Age of Lifeless Beings.

"Wait." Kratos called out to the angel, who promptly stopped and turned around to face the Seraphim of Cruxis. Kratos approached the angel and peered through the golden visor that covered its face and into its eyes. The eyes were simply blank, without any feeling but instead a constant apathy. In fact, they seemed to be in a state beyond apathy. The angel did not flinch, was not remotely uncomfortable as Kratos invaded its personal space and stared at it. Kratos shook his head and unsheathed his sword, holding the tip of the blade gently at the angel's ribs. The angel did not make the slightest movement to try and preserve its life. "You may go." Kratos bowed his head and waited for the angel to turn his back. As he once more saw the soulless movement, a sudden impulse came over him. Such robotic movement, guided by program and not the mind…

Maybe he would scrap a few more robots after all.

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"Kratos…" Yggdrasill adopted a disciplinary tone, "why have you done this?" Yggdrasill's green eyes conveyed not hatred or anger, but simple curiosity. However, if Kratos could not find a valid reason for his actions, or at the least valid to Yggdrasill, the chances of this ambiance continuing were infinitesimal.

"Well…" Kratos struggled to find the reason before gesturing at the mauled angels, "they were…"

"Kratos, if you kill a half dozen angels, I expect a reason. This carnage of my people is not allowable." Yggdrasill's eyes narrowed in affirmation of Kratos's previous thought, yet Kratos simply chuckled at the blatant hypocrisy. Once more Yggdrasill assumed his questioning face.

"They were disrespectful." Kratos blurted out.

"Disrespectful?"

"They failed to address me properly." Kratos informed Yggdrasill nonchalantly. It didn't take too long for Yggdrasill to realize that Kratos meant they failed to refer to Kratos as 'Lord' Kratos. To Yggdrasill, that made the transgression excusable. He could understand where Kratos was coming from. It still infuriated him when people outside the ranks of the Four Seraphim called him Mithos.

"Defects." Yggdrasill cast a final glance the angels' way before beginning to walk out of the room, motioning for Kratos to follow. It took a moment for Kratos to compose himself after such a casual attitude towards a slaughter, and the realization that he himself was so casual about it also unnerved him. Deciding it best not to give into emotions again though, he simply shrugged and walked briskly to catch up to Yggdrasill.

"Now, Kratos, you know I try very hard not to work you too much." Kratos braced himself for the oncoming assignment. "But it seems that something urgent has come up, and it is of vital importance." Kratos snorted lightly at the notion that he was the only person Yggdrasill trusted enough.

"Leave it to Yuan, I'm sure he'd happily do it."

"That's one of the problems. Yuan is busy with a different assignment. If he could though, I'm sure he would, seeing as he was the one who brought the matter to my attention." Kratos swore under his breath, realizing Yuan had simply dropped an assignment on Kratos as part of their ongoing feud.

"And what could be so important?"

"It would seem that a group of individuals was inspired by our… 'assassination attempt' on the Chosen." Kratos came to a sudden halt. An attempt on the Chosen's life? The matter suddenly became quite serious. "I see I have your attention now.

"The plot is of Renegade design. They sent one of their members over to Tethe'alla, and Yuan stumbled onto the plot while investigating the theft of some of our Rheairds. He could not successfully track down the assassin, so I'm leaving the matter to you. I'm putting a great deal of faith in you, and I'm asking you not to let me down. Can I trust you, Kratos?" There was not a moment's hesitation in between Yggdrasill's question and Kratos's reply.

"Indeed, Lord Yggdrasill."

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Kratos pulled the purple glove over his hand, letting the elastic band snap onto his wrist after the article was fully mounted on his hand. His ensemble as a commoner was now complete. He had traded his stark white, jewel-encrusted Cruxis uniform for the outfit he had worn so very long ago, even before he had met Mithos. The purple outfit was simple in design, made not to protect but instead to maximize flexibility. To Kratos, allowing a sword to pass his own blade was an unforgivable mistake, and death was called for. Even in his own time most people hadn't bought into this philosophy, preferring the more idealistic belief that no one had to die in battle. Nonsensical ideology, really.

Kratos checked the sword at his hip. There was something to be desired from this sword, as it simply was not of the same quality as the Flamberge. Yet Kratos was to be an unassuming mercenary, and carrying such a fine blade would draw unnecessary attention. Instead he would have to wield the simple steel blade, though it was at least good steel.

As he prepared to leave, Kratos commenced in his pre-mission ritual. One brief glance at the locket he hid under his clothes, untying and retying his bootlaces, and then a quick look at the corner Noishe once occupied before remembering he was no longer there. Finally there was a slight shaking of his head, and the angel of Cruxis headed out to immerse himself in a world he'd rather forget.

End Chapter

**Author's Note**- Public service announcement time, folks. First of all, for anyone reading this, I figure I'll thank you right now for taking the time to do so. Next up, if you're a Red Sox fan, I'm currently laughing at the game 7 heartbreaker you'll all likely face. I've got two words for those keeping the faith: Johnny Pesky (who, by the way, was not at fault). On a more important note, I'll be setting up a blurb in my bio which outlines when my updates to this should come. If you want to continue reading this, I suggest moseying on over…


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